Cricket 1887

68 CRICKET: A WEEKLY RECORD OF THE GAME. APRIL 21, 1867. COUNTY CR ICK E T . B y a C o u n ty C a ptain . T he following articleis from the pen of a well- known cricketer. We have pleasure in pub­ lishing it, though we do not in any way share his views, which our own personal experience proves to be opposed to the opinions of county cricketers generally: T he game of cricket, now so justly popular in England, played by the rich and by the poor—from the open spaces situated near crowded cornts to the classic grounds of Lord’s and of the Oval, from a cinder wicket to some­ thing nearly approaching to a billiard table— this game finds its highest development as played between the counties of England, in other words in county cricket. I feel sure that if the immortal Master of the Handley Cross Hunt had been a cricketer instead of a fox-hunter he would have toasted county cricket to the detriment of all other variations of the game, in that graphic language for which he was so justly celebrated —“ ’Tintin' is the foremost passion of my ’eart; compared with it all others are flat and unprofitable. It’s not never of no manner of use ’umbuggin’ about the matter, but there is no sport fit to hold a candle to fox ’untin’. Talk of stag-’untin’ ! might as well ’unt a hass! . . . Puss-’untin’ is werry well for cripples and those that keep donkeys coursing should be made felony.” Can we not imagine the worthy Master’s scorn, supposing him to have been a cricketer and reduced to running weight, at a great deal of the fancy cricket which is played to-day—for far as it is from being what it should be, there is no cricket to be compared to County Cricket. What is there in the game to be compared to a close thing between Notts and Yorkshire at Bramall Lane? Who does not remember the excitement at the Oval a few years back when Lancashire and Surrey played that never-to-be-forgotten match ? What is it that makes men proud of belonging to one county more than another ? simply the fact that they do belong to that county and not to any other. The clannish feeling is strong in all blood, and it comes very freely into play in the friendly rivalry between adjoining counties— all are Englishmen and very ready to join hands and strain every nerve against an antipodean foe, but more eager far to fight out the question of supremacy amongst them­ selves. Let us examine very briefly in what way county cricket is the highest branch of the sport. It is certainly not the most popular amongst the public, but that is not a matter of great moment, nor does it affect the argu­ ment. Such matches as England v. Australia are nothing more than a concentrated form of county cricket. They are a combination of all the counties to do battle against a common foe, to uphold the supremacy of the mother country. The Gentlemen and Players’ matches have no interest whatever as cricket contests—they are simply exhibition matches arranged pro bono publico —no cricketer cares anything about them, except, of course, that it is a high honour to be chosen as one of the team ; and in fact in such a season aswe have just passed through, they are an absurdity, a drug in the market. Why, I have seen in the olden times a very considerable crowd of people paying to watch eleven men with one leg play against eleven with one arm, that is to say eleven whole men divided up into two mutilated elevens to draw a gate. Public School cricket is of course intensely interesting and exciting to those belonging to the schools, but it is a boys’ game, good in itself but only an imperfect sort of sport, and any interest taken in it by outsiders is not in what the boys do themselves, but in the promise they show for the future. The Inter-University matches are also amongst the keenest of any played, and, in­ deed, there is an exception to be made in their favour, but if we come to examine them we find that they lack the continuity of county cricket, they lack the charm attached to the accident of birth, which makes one man an Englishman, another a Kussian, which makes one man a Yorkshireman, another a canny Scot. A man at the most can play four years for his ’Varsity, but a man may, if he is good enough, and takes care of himself, play twenty years, or even five and twenty, for his county. Look at another startling difference: a man goes to college because his parents can afford to send him there—clearly here it is wealth that puts you in the way of obtaining your “ blue ”—a coveted distinction truly, and one your children are not likely to forget, but wealth can never be a good qualification for any sport, nor is it the game of the rich we are here considering, but the most popular game the world has ever seen, and one within the reach of everyone. Lastly, in University contests there are no professionals. What would the game be to-day or any day without its professional element ? a very tasteless dish. The charm of county cricket lies in its keen­ ness. It is a serious matter to lose a match. Secretary, captain, and members of the team who are all on the ground, are alike duly de­ pressed, and as the wires flash the news to the evening papers many friends also have a touch of the blues. It is all very well talking about taking a licking with a good grace, but I hope one can do that, and still be very depressed at losing. If it is not a serious business it is worth nothing at all. Those, if any such there are, who play for the sake of swaggering round the ground before an admiring crowd of sixpences, had far better not play at all. When a man has been away on a cricket tour you will sometimes hear a friend say to him on his return, “ Well, what have you done ? ” A true cricketer will reply, “ We won all our matches, or all but so-and-so.” It should not be a question of individual but of collective achievement. You would not ask a man after rowing in an eight what he had done. The question is and should be simply, “ Did you win ? ” and in this respect rowing is a less selfish sport than cricket; but it need not be so, and would not be so if the true spirit were more cultivated, and men were to think less of their individual scores—if, in short, the olden style were a little more in vogue, where the runs were simply notched on a stick and added up without regard to the player who made them. To strain every nerve to make your county as successful as possible should be the endeavour of each member of the team ; and it should not be forgotten you may do a great deal towards winning a match without getting a single run or bowling a wicket, and con­ versely you may get 20 or 30 runs and yet do a great deal towards losing. But to look at the matter critically, and to examine it in a friendly way, without any sort of idea of riding a tilt against existing rules, or of attempting to alter them, can it be said that county cricket, as it is played in this year of grace, is what it should be? I fear it is very far from being so. There are two things radically wrong in my opinion: 1st, the qualification; 2nd, the quantity played—in fact, to borrow a term from the analytical chemist, if you test the game you will find that qualitatively and quantitatively there is something amiss. I am not going to knock my head against facts, nor is it my business to suggest how things can be mended practically—neither is it my wish to emulate those frantic corres­ pondents of the sporting press who in a hot June write in the calmest manner to suggest that the wickets should be six in number and four feet high, but I do say that for ideal county cricket the qualification should be the only iogical one, and that there should be much less of it played. The only logical qualification is that of birth, or, if any exception can be made, it should be a ten years’ continuous residence, and no one having once elected a county should be allowed to play for another. Is not the present system of county qualification absurd ? A man plays for two years for one county and proves himself a most valuable bat. The next year he plays for another county for which he has been qualifying during the said two years by a very partial residence in the county of his adoption. What interest would be taken in a match where Hornby played for Surrey and Walter Bead for Lancashire ? Or would it be pleasant if Spofforth and Giffen played for England v. Australia with W.G. and Steel as vis-a-vis ? In fact, the only thing that can reconcile one to the absurdity of a man playing for any other than the county of his birth, is a long continuous residence in, and association with the county of adoption. Nottingham is champion county this year, and has only once been beaten in three years; but whether Notts or Surrey can claim the best record for ’86—a question on which cricketers well able to judge are by no means unanimous—yet no one can fairly claim that Surrey as a county is as good a cricketing county as Notts, seeing that the latter plays none but Nottinghamshire men, while the Southern shire has to go north for two of her best bowlers, Bowley and Beaumont. Can county qualification inspire us with the respect it should do when we think of it as applied to a county such as Middlesex ? Most amateurs are at one time or other qualified to play for Middlesex, or could very easily become so. Again, when one hears of Walter Wright living in Kent, without in the least knowing anything of his reasons for doing so, the question arises, May he not wish to j>lay for Kent—may not Kent wish for his services ? Well, if he plays, who could object ? No one would or could object. If he does not play he is qualified to do so, or soon will be, so that the argument remains unaffected. No one would object either if George Hearne played for Nottingham after a two years’ residence. Still Notts v. Kent would not be quite the same reading. In fact, there is nothing to prevent any one, supposing him to be rich enough and foolish enough, making any county he likes the champion county, let him only stick to it, and spend money enough for ten or twelve years. This money question, which is no fancy but a good solid fact, bids fair to ruin County Cricket some day if it is not checked, and it has already done incalcu­ lable harm. It is a melancholy fact that unless you have plenty of money you cannot get a good team together, and further that the easiest way of doing so when you have the money, is to import your bowler all ready for immediate use, right or left hand, leg or off break, whichever you like; the money is yours and the choice too. Then there is far too much county cricket played. Why do we have return matches every year. An agony doubly drawn out—a song encored—and a result very often, and in­ deed generally, completely neutralised by the return engagement. How much keener every­ one would be, and how much better the wickets would be, if the matches of the season were only half as many as they are. Would you have a return Oxford and Cambridge match ? or run the Derby over again next week to give The Bard another chance ? The number of matches played between Counties has unfortunately increased so fast that the whole thing has become a hopeless complica- tion of facts and figures; and it is with diffi­ culty that an ordinary brain, however interested in the subject, can tell you in August w'hat happened in May or June. With­ out any shadowof doubt thereis too much of it. Six days a week from May to August—over one hundred consecutive days ! with a rest or a long railway journey on Sundays. The brain staggers at the thought. You must not at any rate expect the public to follow the matches very closely if there are so many of them, and if they are spread over such a length of time. Englishmen love a sharp decisive contest— fancy a hard race between Beach and Gaudaur every day for four months !